Beast Wars
by Zuvios Gemini
Summary: RINCH. In a world where certain people can transform into beasts and animals, there is the Beast Wars industry. Owners can enter their Pets into the competitions and have them fight for money. Harold Finch is the richest man in both the industry and in the world, and he's fortunate enough to get his hands on the military canine, John Reese. Things get dangerous quickly.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here is the long-awaited first chapter for _Beast Wars_, my Person of Interest monster!AU. I have a thing for monsters, what can I say? :D

For a better idea of where this came from, read up on and/or watch _Unleashed_, starring Jet Li and Morgan Freeman

In this story, Finch has a bit of a Ben Linus (LOST) personality mixed in with his canon personality. Hopefully I can get it to mesh well and you'll like it. O_O Also, the world in which this takes place is significantly different from ours in terms of technology and such. Not really futuristic since it's a present-day story. You'll see.

****Tags/warnings: Rinch (Reese/Finch); monsters; transformations; creature violence/violence in general; werewolves/werecats/wereanimals in general; future sexual content/what could be considered bestiality (based on the nature of some of the characters, namely Reese); future mentions of what could be considered animal abuse/abandonment (again based on the nature of the characters); slavery-like situations; servant/master-like relationships****

**More warnings to come as more chapters are added**

The main music used as a sort of background to this story is dubstep. The specific songs for this chapter are _Seven Nation Army (Glitch Mob Remix) _originally by The White Stripes and _Chinter's Will _by Klaypex (in case y'all like background music)

Sorry for the long author's note! They won't always be this long. XD

o-o-o-o-o

Harold Finch hated the rain. To be more specific, he hated having to go out when it rained. The moisture in the air was torture on his already painful joints. They ached and creaked, making him feel centuries older than he actually was. Sometimes if the weather was bad enough, he ended up in bed for the next day and a half, rigid as a board and unable to even sit up properly without pain blinding him. He hated the rain, and he cursed the Gods in charge of it daily. It was unfortunate for him that his main line of work was based in Seattle, Washington, one of the rainiest cities in America.

Today however, on October 7th, he would brave the rain. There was a promise of something good along with the moisture in the air today, so with some effort, he dressed in one of his more casual suits (grey was simply the only logical choice given the weather; a maroon tie made it a little less ironic) and reluctantly grabbed his cane from his bedside.

He hated his damned cane as well. Sometimes he felt brave enough to walk around without it, but he didn't dare leave his house. He had fallen on more than one occasion because his leg locked up, and it had taken far too long for him to pull himself together and get up again. The doctor said that one day he could forgo it, but for now, he would have to deal with it. It was the cane or the wheelchair and Harold would be damned to an eternity in Hell if he ever sat in a wheelchair of his own free will.

Checking his appearance in the floor-length mirror one more time, Harold took a deep breath and made his way to the garage. The elevator ride down from the top floor of the condominium complex was quick; he hardly had time to notice. He enjoyed that very much. Standing in one spot too long put strain on his bad leg.

Lucky for him, his beautiful black Lincoln Town Car was easy to drive. Sure he had to adjust and readjust the seat every single time he drove (he had to push it all the way back so he could get in and out, and then pull it back forward so he could drive), but that was hardly a serious bother. He was fortunate that he could drive at all in his condition.

With a low roar, Harold started the car and pulled out onto the main road, heading for the Pet Registration and Distribution Center. Late in the evening a few days before, he had received a call from the caretaker there, stating that a lone Pet had been brought in. No ID, no owner with it, extremely hostile. Hell, the workers had to tranquilize it before even considering bringing it in. A canine, she said, the size of which she had never seen before.

Canines were common in the Northwest. They were loyal and great with children, but they were hardly ever violent enough to need to be put under in any way. Of course, just like normal dogs, canine Pets had certain 'breeds', namely people, that were more likely to act a certain way but most of them had been weeded out. Harold could admit that he was intrigued. His schedule had been full for most of the week, which was why he was only just making his way out there on a rainy Saturday morning.

The shadow of solid metal gates of the PRDC loomed across the hood of his car as he eased to a stop in front of the booth.

"Sorry pal, no visitors allowed in today." The guard said as he rolled his window down.

"I think you'll see that I'm allowed." He replied coolly.

For once, he didn't mind that he lacked the ability to turn his head anymore. The intake of breath from the guard told him enough that he didn't feel the need to level the man with a blank stare. The guard stammered an apology and the gates slid open.

"Have a good day, Mr. Finch." The guard said. Harold paid him no mind. He was obviously new. Most of the guards knew his car by now and didn't bother to stop him. It was good being the richest man in the world sometimes.

He quickly parked his car under the awning, grateful that he didn't have to walk in the dreary Seattle drizzle. He didn't stop to check in at the front desk. There was no need. The receptionist didn't even bother looking away from her computer, having seen him pull up. She buzzed him in with a pleasant 'good morning, Mr. Finch' and a smile that was implied to be for him. He parroted her greeting back at her and pushed through the doors, meeting up with the woman who had called him yesterday.

Nancy was her name, a thin redheaded girl with big grey eyes and a pale complexion, just out of college. She was a bit timid for someone who worked with Pets but Harold saw potential in her so he kept her around.

"Welcome back, Mr. Finch." She said, smiling at him. This time, he returned the smile.

"I've only been gone a couple days, Nancy, but thank you."

She beamed at him. She often reminded Harold of a puppy, eager for that pat on the head that he was too willing to give to her. No one else took her seriously save for him, and really he was the only person who mattered around here.

"So. Where is this troubled Pet that I've heard so much about?"

Nancy's smile faded as she clutched the file in her hands to her chest.

"You… want to see him?" She squeaked. Harold simply raised an eyebrow, making her fidget.

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea, sir."

"Nancy."

She stood up straight as a rod at his firm tone. He took a small step towards her, somewhat proud when she didn't shrink away like most people as he leaned close.

"What do we have the bars on the rooms for?" He didn't pause to let her answer his mostly rhetorical question. "I just want to see him. Now, please." He swept his arm out, indicating for her to lead. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed and she gave him a pained look, but she did as she was told, her heels echoing off of the concrete walls.

As they passed the other rooms, Harold glanced at the Pets inside. Most of them were lounging around on their beds in their human form, reading a book or exercising or sleeping. Some were even chatting with one another through the bars. The ones who spotted him lowered their heads as he walked by, understanding his status just by looking at him. There were also a few that were in their domestic form, the canines lying with their heads on their paws snoozing, the felines sitting in the window watching the rain quietly.

The further they went into the facility, the darker it got. Eventually they reached a door that required a passcode to be punched into the keypad. There was a thud of a lock opening and the door slid open. They kept the battle Pets separated from the domestic Pets. It was just easier that way. Back here, the pets were almost never in their domestic forms. It was human or beast. A yellow line down the middle of the hall warned you how close was close enough. Getting grabbed by an unruly Pet was never on a person's list of things to do, so it served as a cautious reminder more than anything.

Another door came up, and this one required a passcode as well as a fingerprint scan. There were only four cages behind the door, and only one of them was occupied. These were usually used to hold Pets that needed to be put down, whether it was because they were simply too dangerous or because they were sick and beyond medical help. In the less extreme cases, the cages were used when a Pet just needed some isolation or space from the other Pets.

The only light in the back room came from the flickering lights in the main walkway area. The cages themselves were dark as night. It helped keep the Pets calm and controlled, or as much as possible.

Nancy halted a little farther from the occupied cage than Harold did, shaking slightly. Squinting, Harold tried to get a look inside the cage. There was a moment of silence before Harold was finally able to hear the slow, deep breathing of enormous lungs.

"Has he said anything?" He asked, keeping his voice low so as not to startle the beast. Nancy didn't answer immediately but when he turned his body fully to look at her, she snapped out of it with a blink.

"Uhm, no sir. He hasn't even shifted back to his human form yet. He's been a beast since we caught him. We can't even get close enough to feed him. He lashes out and tries to bite through the spaces in the bars, as well as makes swipes at us with his paws. We've been sliding his food and water under the door with a rod. He's been eating and drinking normally however so he's not ill I don't think."

There was a shift inside the cage but that was the only indication of the creature inside. Harold turned back to stare in between the bars. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he could make out a shape that was darker than the rest, and that only made him stare more.

For more than a decade, Harold had been working with Pets, and he had grown up around them because his parents had been in the business, so it didn't take him long to realize that what Nancy had said on the phone was correct; a Pet of this size was astounding to see, and he couldn't even tell what he looked like yet.

"There's something else, Mr. Finch." Nancy said softly, forcing Harold to tear his eyes from the cage. She was now standing to his side, slightly in front of him so that he could see her, and was extending the file that she had been holding to him. He took it and opened it, scanning the information and raising an eyebrow.

"We managed to finally get some ID on him. Everything that we found is in that file."

A low growl was heard from inside the cage and Nancy jumped slightly. Harold glanced up and saw a bright-colored eye watching him from the darkness. He would be lying if he said it didn't send goose bumps racing up and down his arms. The blue iris was so light that it almost looked white, another rarity for a Pet in its beast form. Most Pets had black, brown, or yellow eyes as a beast, or even dark blue if the genes were right. Any light color was extremely hard to find and usually required surgical genetic modification.

"It says here that he used to be in the military…" Harold mused.

More shifting and growling. Harold was beginning to see the bigger picture here, especially after he saw the man's name.

"Nancy, I would love some Sencha green tea right now. Be a good girl and go get me some." He said gently, smiling as he rotated his body to look at her. Her eyes widened and flickered to the cage, where an occasional growl was still vibrating from within.

"Are you sure-"

"One sugar please, thank you." He cut her off, leaving no room for argument. With a sound of discontentment, Nancy nodded and left the area, the door thudding shut behind her. The only sounds in the area now were Harold's own soft breathing, the heavy breathes of the caged beast, and the shifting of large limbs.

"I haven't seen your name in a very long time, John Reese." Harold said, watching the cage for movement. He only had to wait a moment before a huge, black, clawed paw reached out and grasped the bars and the beast came into the light. Harold's eyes went wide as he stared at what he could only describe as the most exotic Pet he had ever seen.

The giant black canine had a long elegant muzzle that had hints of silver in it. The tips of his pointed ears as well as the areas around them were slightly silver also. From what Harold could see, the file wasn't lying. The muscular build screamed 'military canine', as well as a few pieces of smooth exposed scars on his chest and upper biceps. All together, John Reese was a beautiful creature. Harold couldn't help but wonder what the man looked like as a human.

"You know, Mr. Reese, you being in that form creates something of a language barrier for us. Won't you please shift so that we can talk?"

Harold received nothing but a curl of a lip and a snort from John. Swallowing hard, he dared to take a step forward, keeping a white-knuckle grip on his cane, an action that did not go unnoticed by the beast. The eerie eyes flickered over Harold's form from head to toe before he seemed to smile, his long white teeth flashing. John released his grip on the bars and leaned away from the cage, melting into the darkness once more, hardly visible in the sad excuse for light.

"Please?" Harold pressed. "I just want to help get this sorted out. I can't imagine that you like it in here, in that cage. I certainly wouldn't, especially if I were your size." He bit the inside of his lip as John stiffened and gave him a warning growl.

"I'm sorry, I meant no harm by that."

The hair that had begun to stand up on John's neck lay back down and he relaxed a bit, but he stayed hidden mostly in the shadows.

"It's just. I only want to speak. I won't ask you any personal questions, I just want to know why you resisted so passionately to coming here."

Again, a snort was given to him for his troubles but this time, a low rumble followed after it. John was basically sighing at him. Harold's leg was beginning to feel stiff so he grabbed the chair that was sitting by the door and dragged it over in front of the cage, keeping just behind the yellow safety line. He sunk down with a groan and rubbed his knee, placing his cane across his lap.

"I'm here to help, Mr. Reese."

Finally, he heard the telltale cracks and pops of shifting, but after that, nothing more happened. He waited for a few moments before leaning forward.

"John?"

"No one's called me John in a long time."

Harold didn't know what he expected John's voice to sound like, but that definitely wasn't it. It was like a wave caressing the shore. It could just as easily lap lazily at sandy coast as it could kick up and level an entire city in a fit of rage. There was power in that voice.

A tan human hand reached out and held onto the bars this time, joined by the other, the human John Reese leaning casually against them. His hair was long and unruly and he had a beard that was streaked with the same silver as his hair. Also, like all registered Pets, he was wearing a specialized body suit that allowed him to shift between all three of his forms without ruining any clothes and/or accidentally shifting into a naked human. No one really knew how the suits worked except the people who made them. They just knew that they worked.

John's eyes were just as bright a blue as his beast eyes and Harold met the intense gaze easily, completely fascinated by the man in front of him.

"Would you prefer I call you something different?"

"Just Reese is fine." John replied smoothly. Harold figured as much, seeing as John was previously in the military and would therefore be accustomed to responding to his last name, human or not.

"Alright then Mr. Reese. Want to tell me why you resisted capture?"

"No."

The answer came so quickly that it threw Harold off guard and he could do nothing but stare at the now-smirking man in the cage.

"Why not?" He finally asked. Reese shrugged, seeming completely at ease, and Harold could only guess that it was his natural state to seem so relaxed. He adjusted his glasses and read more in the file.

"Shouldn't my file tell you why I'm running? Why I don't have my ID on me? Why my owner isn't looking for me?" The sharp edge to Reese's voice warned Harold to tread carefully, lest he undo the small amount of progress he had achieved.

"Of course it does, but I'd much rather hear the story from you."

Reese smirked again and looked away, shifting his weight.

"It's a long story, and not one that I usually share with strangers."

"You're unemployed currently."

So much for treading carefully, Harold thought as those blue eyes snapped to him again, glowing softly.

"Yes. What about it?" Reese's voice was hard. Harold took a chance with what he said next.

"Merely stating a fact. You also have no owner registered on your ID chip."

When he heard no sound from Reese, he looked up from the file, only to see the man staring at him.

"What?" Reese finally said. Harold's brow furrowed.

"You have no registered owner."

It was at least 30 seconds before Reese spoke again.

"… I see."

Harold was suddenly struck with an idea. Granted it was a pretty stupid idea, one that could possibly get him into a lot of trouble, but he knew if he didn't try it, he'd never hear the end of 'what if'.

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Reese." He said, wanting to say it before he chickened out. Reese's eyes bored into him once more and the man spoke.

"I'm listening."

Harold closed the file and laid it in his lap on top of his cane, folding his hands on top of that. This was a huge risk, but Harold Finch was a businessman, and in order to make it in this industry, risks were necessary.

"I'm assuming that you know who I am." He started. Reese nodded.

"Of course I do. You're Harold Finch, reclusive billionaire, richest man in the world."

Harold nodded. As reclusive as he was, he was still extremely well known.

"How would you like a job?"

Reese's eyebrows rose slightly but other than that, he didn't react.

"What sort of job?"

Indeed, Harold thought. The idea rolled right off of his tongue before he could stop and think logically about it.

"I find myself in need someone who can keep me safe when I'm doing business. My current physical state makes me somewhat vulnerable."

Reese practically oozed smugness.

"Like a guard dog?" He drawled, a smile that almost seemed real playing on his lips. Harold offered him a smile in return.

"If that's what you want to call it, then yes."

Reese seemed to consider it, giving Harold more time to flesh out his proposal.

"You'd live like any other Pet does, with me in my home. You'd get a new ID assigned to your chip in place of your military one. When I go to do business, you will accompany me."

Reese and Harold locked gazes again, and Harold watched in wonder as the blue irises seemed to shift and roll, just like ocean waves.

"I want to keep my military ID. Even if it's a secondary, I want it." John said firmly. Harold couldn't argue with that. He nodded.

"Whatever you like."

"Alright." Reese finally said with a shrug. He stuck his hand through the bars at Harold who, after a moment's struggle, got out of the chair and shook it. Just then, Nancy came back through the door, gasping.

"Mr. Finch what are you-?"

"Nancy, I need some registration papers for Mr. Reese." He said sweetly, taking the hot tea from her hand and taking a sip. She stared at him, mouth slightly open before she looked past him and stared at Reese just as openly, finally shutting her mouth when the caged man smiled at her.

"What- whatever for?" She asked. Harold handed her the file back.

"He's coming home with me as my guard dog." He said simply, shooing her away. She hesitated but did as she was told. That was what she got paid to do wasn't it.

Within the span of a little more than an hour, Reese's papers were signed, his ID chip was updated, and he was given a haircut and a shave. Reese was also given a new set of clothes (a simple white button up shirt and some black slacks) so that he would be comfortable until Harold could get him his own.

When they let Reese out of the cage, all of the guards had their weapons out and trained on him. After reassuring them numerous times and having them disagree with him just as many times, Harold felt irritation bubble up inside him.

"Oh for God's sake, would you put those away? If you shoot my new Pet, I'll find the deepest, darkest, dirtiest hole in this city, and then I'll dig deeper and put you in it, do I make myself clear?"

He had to turn one hundred and eighty degrees just to look at the guards but that was enough. Their eyes were nervous as they lowered the guns, flinching at the gentle smile Reese flashed at them, not being fooled in the least by his routine.

"Pay them no mind. Come, Reese."

Harold was both startled and pleasantly surprised when Reese immediately straightened and followed him through the halls, keeping to his side and slightly behind him. Harold decided to see just how much military training Reese had retained. He let Reese trail a little ways away before he spoke again, his tone firm.

"Reese, heel."

Reese took a larger step and snapped to his side instantly, shadowing his every step until they reached the main lobby, eyes straight ahead and not wandering. Harold smiled to himself.

The receptionist looked up in surprise, not recognizing the handsome man leaving with Mr. Finch, but after Nancy and the nervous guards exited the same hallway and watched them go, she could easily guess his identity.

"Were you taught to drive, Reese?" Harold asked once they were outside. The rain had stopped for the most part. There was a small sliver of sunshine trying to cut its way through the clouds, lightening up the otherwise drowsy afternoon. Reese nodded once.

"I can drive anything with a steering wheel." He said confidently. Harold smiled and got into the passenger side seat.

"Good. My leg is killing me and I don't want to aggravate it by driving. Get in and I'll give you directions."

Without another word, Reese got into the driver's side and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and out onto the main road.

o-o-o-o-o

A/N: HOLY CHRIST THIS CHAPTER IS HUGE! So here's the start. :D It only gets better from here! I hope you guys like it!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here have another chapter. :D TIME TO SHOW THE NEW PET HIS HOME. Also we learn a little backstory on Harold and see some familiar faces. Dis gon b gud.

If Fusco and Carter seem a little shippy, trust me it's not meant to be seen as such, and the reason for that will get explained later on.

****Tags/warnings: Rinch (Reese/Finch); monsters; transformations; creature violence/violence in general; werewolves/werecats/wereanimals in general; future sexual content/what could be considered bestiality (based on the nature of some of the characters, namely Reese); future mentions of what could be considered animal abuse/abandonment (again based on the nature of the characters); slavery-like situations; servant/master-like relationships****

**More warnings to come as more chapters are added**

Music: '_Infinity' _by The XX; _'End of Line' _by Daft Punk; most of the _'TRON: Legacy'_ soundtrack actually :P

o-o-o-o-o

On the drive back to Harold's condo complex, neither occupant of the car spoke aside from Harold giving Reese directions. When he wasn't navigating, Harold took the time to really look at his new Pet, or at least as well as he could from his seat.

Now that Reese had gotten a haircut and was clean-shaven, Harold could easily see where his exotic looks came from. John Reese had a unique kind of attractiveness about him, something that just drew people in. Harold didn't need to know him personally to see that. Bright blue eyes that almost looked white when sunlight passed through them a certain way, black hair that was silver around the edges, skin that hinted at an origin somewhere sunny and hot.

Reese was definitely a rare find and Harold considered himself fortunate to have found him before someone else got a hold of him.

Harold was never very picky when it came to his Pets, even when he was young. The most he could ask for out of a Pet was a companion, someone that he could count on no matter what. Being the child of the people who brought the Beast Wars out of the underground, and into the civilized world, he didn't have many real friends. Only a lot of time to himself. A lot of spare time and an obscenely huge library. The school system back then had nothing on what young Harold Finch was learning all by himself.

While most children were learning long division and more advanced spelling and grammar, Harold had already started reading through the textbooks that his father had used while he was studying at University. To put it frankly, Harold Finch was a natural-born genius and despite how much he could boast about it, he didn't. He didn't need to. A big brain wasn't needed to run the Beast Wars. People all just assumed that he inherited the industry when his parents retired and eventually passed away.

Truth be told, there was no horror story behind the richest man in the world, at least not in his childhood. His parents didn't die in a horrible accident, he wasn't abused or mistreated in any manner, nor was he spoiled, he didn't have to crush people to get to the top.

He wasn't spectacular in any glaringly obvious way. In fact, when most people looked at Harold Finch for the first time, he looked completely ordinary, possibly less than that due to his injuries. But when they looked again, they could see the genius spark in his pale blue eyes, could feel the hidden intellectual power emanating from him. They understood why Harold Finch was at the top of the world on a cloud, and why they were all stuck with their feet on the ground staring up at him.

Harold Finch was the scariest kind of wolf in a sheep's skin. He knew how people worked in every sense of the phrase. He knew which buttons to push to get them to do what he wanted. His reach of influence was so far outside of the Beast Wars sector that he was practically running the country. He was the unseen hand in most of America's affairs and the people of the world were none the wiser, and as sinister as it sounded, all of it was true.

Harold Finch was indeed one of the most influential men in the modern world. Hence why he needed a Pet of Reese's caliber. As invincible as Harold sounded, there were always ways of getting to men like him. For one, he was crippled. Majorly. Three screws in his neck on both sides made it impossible for him to turn his head, and really it was difficult to do anything that involved bending his spine too far, AND to top it all off, he had managed to destroy part of his leg in the same accident. Secondly, there was always competition in the Beast Wars, even if he no longer actively participated. His status as former champion and now-owner of the industry painted a huge red target on his back.

Luck was definitely not a frequent friend of Harold's, so when he said he was fortunate to have found Reese, he said it with great caution.

"You can just pull up here." Harold instructed as they drove into the parking garage. "We'll take the elevator."

Reese nodded silently and parked the car. He again surprised Harold by coming around to the other side and opening his door for him. After a moment's struggle Harold got out of the car, leaning on his cane. He hated the long drive to the PDRC. It was Hell on his joints. It was on days like this, when his own body seemed to be hellbent on murdering him, that he was reminded that his accident really wasn't as long ago as he would like to think. 7 months was hardly enough time to recover from an accident as severe as his, God, he hated to even recall the memories.

"Mr. Finch?"

Reese's soft voice broke through his reverie and Harold ignored the possible concern he saw in the other man's eyes. He didn't want pity, least of all from his own Pet, so he gave Reese a tight smile.

"I'm fine. Just a little stiff. Shall we?" He walked briskly to the elevator, waiting for Reese to join him before pressing the key for floor 47; three floors below his own living area. He had the entire 50th floor for his home and most of it was filled with books.

Reese stood at his side, eyes trained ahead of him, hands loose, deceptively relaxed, but Harold knew better. He had been around the military dogs before (a term that used to be a jab that had become literal, and would forever be funny to just about everyone), and he knew exactly how well-trained they were, but seeing how Reese behaved not only at the PDRC, but around him as well, Harold knew that his new Pet was no ordinary military dog. He'd find out his real story soon enough.

The elevator pinged and the two men exited, seeing two other people approaching from the opposite end of the hall. Harold almost missed the way that Reese stiffened slightly as the two pairs met halfway.

"Ah just the man I was looking for." Harold said by way of greeting. The larger man extended his hand.

"Good ta see ya Mr. Finch. How've you been?" He said, his accent suggesting he was from the New England area, New York probably.

"Oh can't complain, except maybe about this weather." Harold joked dryly. The other man shrugged.

"The rain ain't so bad, but then again I don't have the problems you do."

"Indeed not." Harold smiled. The man's eyes finally shifted to Reese, where they rested for a moment before he spoke.

"Who's your friend, Finch?"

Reese bristled at the casual way Harold had just been addressed but he maintained his bearings. It would hardly make a good first impression if he just flew off the handle over a name. Besides, Harold and this man obviously knew each other very well so… that made it alright he supposed.

"This is my new guard dog. John Reese, meet Lionel Fusco, my long-time associate."

Reese extended his hand politely, smiling just as politely, and if he squeezed Fusco's hand a little harder than necessary well.

"Nice to meet you, John." Fusco said gruffly.

"Just Reese is fine, thank you." Reese fired back. The slinky dark-skinned figure that was at Fusco's side was watching Reese carefully, her sharp thin eyes trained on his face. It made his skin crawl and his hackles raise. When he finally looked at her, her dark eyes twinkled with mischief while one corner of her lips twitched up. He just barely managed to stop a growl from crawling up his throat.

Felines. No matter how civil he tried to be, there was just something about them that made him want to go berserk. Must be part of being a canine.

"This is Lionel's feline Pet, Joss Carter." Harold's voice said.

Carter smiled at both of them, knowing better than to try and shake Reese's hand. She could tell he was a canine even if she couldn't smell him. Military by the looks of it, familiar and yet so foreign. Canines and Felines didn't work well together for obvious reasons so they were kept separate during training. The only time that the two groups interacted was in combat.

"Hi." She said simply to Reese, receiving a small nod in return. She chuckled. Like she expected anything else. She could almost see the hair standing up on his neck, the muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Well you seem busy so I guess I'll see ya around, huh, Finch?" Fusco said, seeing the way Reese was staring Carter down. When he was a kid, he used to have a real dog and cat, and he knew where this was going. By the looks of it, Finch did as well because he nodded and started walking.

"Yes of course, Detective. Have a good day. Come, Reese."

Fusco's eyebrow rose when Reese immediately walked away without a second glance at either of them, trailing next to Finch as they entered the VIP elevator at the other end of the hall.

"Must be a military dog." He murmured. Carter chuckled.

"How did you guess?"

"Ehh I'm lucky like that." Fusco quipped, making Carter roll her eyes. "You still wanna get a haircut before this next match?"

Carter snorted and strolled past him.

"Of course. That bear pulled out a hand full when he managed to catch me. He won't get another chance." She hissed.

Inside the VIP elevator, Reese was working on relaxing once more, letting out a small breath he didn't know he was holding. Harold smiled gently, hands playing with the top of his cane.

"I'm guessing you don't do well with felines?" He said. Reese shrugged.

"I'd say I'm civil enough," was his honest reply. Harold chuckled as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into another hallway, significantly smaller than the others. Harold pressed his hand to the pad on the door and it slid open, revealing his beautiful penthouse apartment. Reese looked around appreciatively.

The entire space was full of rich colors and old-fashioned designs. And books. There were more books filling the space than anything. The shelves that held the innumerable volumes stretched to the ceiling in most places. In others, there was space at the top for half-circle windows. As he followed Finch into one of the main rooms, he saw a huge computer system set up in the middle of the room. There were several monitors and a large armchair sitting in front of it. Clearly Harold spent a lot of time on the computer.

"Welcome to your new home, Mr. Reese." Harold said, turning to face him. Reese's eyes traveled around the space for another second or so before he met Harold's anxious eyes. He cocked his head slightly, not understanding the source of Harold's anxiety but deciding not to comment on it.

"Thank you. Your home is lovely."

"Our home." Harold corrected, turning and taking off his suit jacket. Reese was thrown slightly by the snappy answer. He had never been so openly welcomed into a home environment before, not even when he was back in Jessica's foster care. Those were the best 6 months of his life, but still. It was just a foster home.

"Thank you for the compliment." Harold's voice said from the other side of the room. Reese had been so busy remembering Jessica that he hadn't noticed the other man move. He had also unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled the sleeves up to his elbow. He looked much more casual that way and Reese found himself liking it.

"Now, before we head out for the day, you need to pick your room and I'll find you some nicer clothes."

Reese was confused for a second.

"My room?" He said softly, causing Harold to turn away from the cup of tea he was steeping.

"Yes. You need to sleep somewhere and I tend to stick to the rule of no animals on the sofa." Reese smirked at the joke, feeling a little out of sorts. Harold Finch was a strange character indeed. John had never been offered an entire room to himself before.

"Don't worry, I don't shed very much." The Pet replied. Harold removed the bag from his teacup and added a lump of sugar, stirring it in and taking a sip.

"Good. Cleaning the furniture is hardly my favorite thing to do."

Reese watched as Harold limped past him, one hand on his cane and the other holding his tea. He could see that getting along with Finch would be easier than he first thought. Despite his status as one of the most important human beings in the world, Harold seemed very down to Earth, if not just a little in control of it.

"How tall are you, Reese?" Finch asked, wandering into another room to the side of the computer area. Reese followed silently, quite shocked and slightly embarrassed to find himself in Finch's bedroom area. The actual bed was in the back room—Reese knew how the penthouses were set up—but never in his life had he been allowed inside his owner's bedroom, save for Jessica, so needless to say he found himself a little tongue-tied.

"Mr. Reese? Are you alright?" Harold prompted, giving him a concerned look. Reese blinked.

"I was six foot two inches last I checked." He finally responded. Harold nodded, placing his cup on the vanity table next to the closet.

"Oh good, you're the same size as Nathan, my previous Pet. That means you should fit into his old suits. And I do apologize for the hand-me-downs, but we haven't got time to go get you your own suits today. We have a previous engagement to attend to."

Harold pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white button up shirt, as well as a black suit jacket. He also pulled out a tie, which made Reese wrinkle his nose just a bit. He hated ties. Even when he was younger he hated them. They always felt like they were choking him. That was also the reason why he opted out of having a collar made at any point. He couldn't stand anything tight on his throat.

"Is the tie necessary? I have a thing about having something around my neck." Reese said, hoping he wasn't overstepping some boundary. All Harold did was look at him for a moment before shrugging.

"No I suppose it isn't. Nathan insisted on always wearing a tie, but you're not Nathan, so you don't have to wear it."

There was something bitter that crept into Harold's voice in that moment, and Reese almost asked about Nathan, but he quickly thought better of it. Something told him that it wasn't his place to know just yet.

"I appreciate it." He said, accepting the clothes that Harold held out to him. The shorter man seemed lost in thought for a moment as he picked up his tea and took a small sip, but he quickly recovered and started to leave the room.

"Get dressed. We'll be leaving shortly."

Reese already started undressing before Harold got to the door, exposing his black special undersuit.

"Where are we going?" He asked as he pulled the shirt on, his suit adjusting to the fact that he didn't button the top buttons. Harold turned back to him.

"We've got a Beast Wars match to attend."

o-o-o-o-o

An hour or so later, Reese and Harold were walking towards the enormous domed Coliseum that played host to the Beast Wars. It used to be a hockey rink before it got converted. The ice got switched out for hard packed dirt and after one too many accidents where the Beasts were thrown through the glass and into the crowd, the flimsy glass surrounding the area was replaced by thick security glass. The VIP boxes remained untouched, as did the huge four-sided screen that hung above the arena. The locker rooms were converted only slightly, mostly to accommodate the fact that the new occupants were definitely bigger than the average hockey player sometimes.

Harold and Reese made it through security with no issues, stopping only so that Reese could get his chip scanned. Harold instructed the guard to put Reese on his pass, seeing as he was his new Pet and guard dog. The guard nodded the affirmative and they passed through, heading toward Harold's box. Reese was both amused and slightly confused to find Fusco waiting out front for them.

"What took you so long?" The Detective asked. Harold brushed past him, sliding the box door open with his passkey.

"I had to get Reese put on my access pass so we wouldn't get stopped anymore."

The three men walked into the room, stopping in front of the massive sliding glass doors. Harold pushed them open and they all stepped out onto the balcony that over looked the arena. The seats were already filling up below them. It was sometimes shocking how many people actually wanted to see monstrous animals fight (and sometimes kill) each other. In some countries, the Beast Wars were still illegal, but in America, it was just as much of a past time as baseball or football.

Everyone knew about the Beast Wars, and almost everyone who wasn't in the lower class had a Pet of their own, domestic or not. It was just a normal way of life now. Pets were treated like family members and best friends. It really was no different from owning an animal pet, which some people still had. Sometimes a family had both a Pet and an animal. As it was with everything else, it all depended on what said-family could afford.

Reese observed the people below him, easily picking out the Pets among the owners. Pets moved differently from normal human beings, regardless of what kind of animal they were harboring underneath their skin. Reese certainly didn't scratch at his neck or chase cats (as much as he sometimes wanted to), so being a canine didn't affect his outward mannerisms, not in a way that was easily discernable to the average person.

"Reese would you like to sit?" Harold's voice asked him. He tore his eyes from a particularly interesting pair of Pets that were talking.

"No, I'm fine." His eyes didn't miss how Harold was leaning heavily on his cane, so he grabbed a chair from inside the main room.

"You, however, should take a seat." He said, smiling as Harold eased into the offered seat with a groan, rubbing his leg.

"Damn this leg. I feel like an shriveled old man."

"On the contrary. You don't look a day over 30." Reese snarked, a smirk playing on his lips as he heard Fusco choke on his drink from the main room. Finch's bright eyes were on him in an instant, his eyebrows raised.

"Be careful, Mr. Reese." The seated man said shortly. Reese did nothing but look at him smugly, not missing how his owner was a little red around the collar. Although Finch was right to warn him to be careful—owners and Pets were not permitted to have any form of romantic, intimate, or sexual relationship—what he said was all in good fun. He meant nothing by it.

Not really.

"It was a compliment." He said breezily, shifting his attention back to the arena. The workers were raking the fighting area, turning over the old dirt and revealing the new. Reese suddenly realized why he was absently scanning the crowd. He could smell the feline but he had yet to see her.

"Where's Carter?" He asked. Fusco came back onto the balcony, a drink in his hand.

"Getting ready for the fight. She's got a rematch fight with one Barnes McClain. Huge nasty guy, turns into a bear. Ironically enough, his owner is the CEO of a hunting company in Canada."

Reese nodded. Bears were never fun to be around. They were cross and quite frankly a little on the disgusting side. They were never anything but unpleasant, but Reese assumed that it wasn't really their fault. It was just genetics. Genetics were also to blame for the fact that they didn't have a domestic form, just a human or a bear.

A song with a heavy pounding beat began to pour out of the speakers, and a deep voice spoke on top of it.

"Ladies, gentlemen, Pets, owners, children, parents, and everyone in between. Welcome to Beast Wars!"

The crowd roared, screamed, whistled, shouted, and just generally made noise. Reese fought the urge to cover his sensitive ears. He wasn't used to all the noise yet. Being in the military was actually a very quiet occupation, at least in the branch he had been in.

"Today's match is actually a rematch between two Pets that we all know very well. Joss Carter will be fighting to break her long-standing match tie with Barnes McClain."

The two gates on opposite ends of the rink opened up, revealing Carter and McClain. Reese almost felt sorry for Carter. McClain definitely was a bear, a big hairy man with a shaved head and a huge beard. His brown undersuit just added to his grizzly-esque appearance.

Compared to him, Carter looked so small in her own black undersuit. Reese noted that her hair was much shorter than he had seen earlier that day. The only part that was long was the razor bangs that hung over part of her right eye. When they showed her on the big screens, Reese nodded appreciatively. He could see the feline dancing behind her intense eyes. He would even go as far to say that she was former military, and the more he watched her staring down McClain, the more he was sure. Interesting.

The announcer had gone silent, and seconds later a foghorn was blown. McClain was the first to shift.

Reese's heart rate increased ever so much. It had been a long while since he had seen a live Beast Wars match. His previous occupation didn't leave him time to go to the arenas.

Reese fought the urge to flinch. McClain's shifting technique was horrid. There was nothing easy looking about it. His arms bulged out and extended his hands into huge clawed paws. His whole body swelled and convulsed until a giant brown grizzly bear stood in his place. McClain shook out his fur and stood up on his hind legs, roaring at Carter. She didn't even bat an eyelash.

Carter's shift was far more fluid than McClain's had been. All the pieces flowed into one another, her body lengthening into the slender muscular body of a black panther. She sat down on her haunches and licked a paw, her gold eyes flashing. She was blatantly taunting the bear.

Reese was bothered for a moment when he realized just how small the two beasts in the arena were when he compared their size to his own. He was also bothered by how… normal they looked. They looked closer to an actual animal than a beast, but when Reese shifted, he was actually a werewolf, fangs and claws and bipedal. It just reminded him of how different he really was, but before he could dwell on it, McClain was lunging for Carter with a snarl.

Carter was back on her feet in a flash, diving out of the way with a hiss. McClain whipped around, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared at her again, making a swipe at her with a paw. She dodged him easily, jumping on his back and biting down on his neck.

Reese saw what McClain was going to do before it happened. McClain flopped backwards, pinning Carter beneath him. He got up off of her while she was still dazed and dragged her towards him by her tail. She hissed and spat at him, scratching him deeply on his arm. He let go with a snarl, batting at her with his uninjured paw and finally hitting her. She was sent sprawling several feet from the angry bear.

Fusco inhaled sharply from his spot beside Harold, who had his fist on his chin, watching intensely. Reese fought the instinct to jump down into the arena and assist Carter. Seeing another military personnel in danger was making the hair on his neck stand on end. Against his will, a small whine came out of his mouth. Luckily, the arena was so loud that no one heard him. He quickly composed himself.

Carter struggled to her feet, blood dribbling down her chin from between her bared teeth. This time when McClain came after her however, she was ready. With her feet planted, she drove her shoulder into his throat and followed with a blow to the head, making him collapse on his side gasping. She stood over him, panting as the 10-second timer counted down. When the foghorn sounded again, she shifted back into a human, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, smiling up into the box where Reese, Harold, and Fusco were sitting.

"That's my girl." Fusco said as he clapped. Reese smiled. Carter wasn't so bad for a feline he supposed.

A team of medical staff came out and took the now-human McClain away on a stretcher. Carter returned to her locker room after waving at the still cheering crowd. Fusco stood and put his cup down.

"I'm gonna go down and meet her. See you guys later, huh?" He patted Harold's shoulder and nodded to Reese before leaving the box.

Despite the loud cheers that were still echoing from below, the silence from Harold was deafening. Reese didn't make a move to speak to him, which turned out to be the best thing to do because Harold eventually heaved a sigh.

"Let's go home, Nathan."

Reese watched as Harold stiffened and went pale, realizing what he had just said, before shaking his head and grabbing his cane.

"I'm sorry, Reese. Let's… let's just go." He sighed.

Reese couldn't deny the waves of curiosity that were washing over him now, but he didn't dare ask any questions. He figured he was already on thin ice for that gentle attempt at flirtation earlier. He had merely been testing Harold, to see how far he could push him before he got reprimanded. He needed to see how strong-willed his owner was before he started complying to everything they said.

Turns out Harold Finch couldn't be pushed very far at all.

Some journalists managed to catch up with them on their way out, all of them eager for an interview with the elusive Mr. Finch, but one look at Reese's cold expression and they backed off easy enough. Harold's limp was more pronounced when they reached the car and Reese saw his face screw up in pain as he slumped into the seat. Swallowing down the concerned whine that so desperately wanted to escape, Reese started the car and drove them home.

o-o-o-o-o

A/N: We're already started to get deeper into some important plot points. Sorry for the late update children. :D Forgive me and leave me a review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Let me just say that I am so happy that everyone likes this so far. :D I myself am pleased with it. So I'll keep on truckin' and try and update regularly. Still aiming for Saturdays, but it's looking more like Sunday so I'll just say weekends. XD

Sorry this one is a little shorter than the other two. :/

****Tags/warnings: Rinch (Reese/Finch); monsters; transformations; creature violence/violence in general; werewolves/werecats/wereanimals in general; future sexual content/what could be considered bestiality (based on the nature of some of the characters, namely Reese); future mentions of what could be considered animal abuse/abandonment (again based on the nature of the characters); slavery-like situations; servant/master-like relationships****

**This chapter: implied Finch/Nathan feelings; alcohol **

Music: _'Echo'_ by Jason Walker; _'Noble Maiden Fair (A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal)'_ by Emma Thompson and Peigi Barker; _'Fearless (250 and Dark Stars)'_ by Falling Up; _'Feeling a Moment'_ by Feeder; _'I Love You'_ by 2NE1 (no I'm not kidding)

o-o-o-o-o

The second Reese and Harold set foot in the apartment, Harold disappeared into his bedroom, shutting his door firmly. Reese stood staring at the dark wood, feeling more than a little lost. Every inch of his body was burning and itching with irritation and concern. Something about the Wars match had made Harold upset. The only clue he had was the fact that Harold had called him 'Nathan' by accident.

The only thing Reese knew about Nathan was that he was Harold's previous pet. With each passing second Reese was overcome with the urge to know what happened to him. Nathan was the key to figuring out what was wrong with Harold.

Reese could admit that his military way of thinking was a little redundant, but it had never failed him in the past. Now if only he could get Harold out of his bedroom. He didn't dare walk up and knock, that was too forward. A sudden idea came to him, making him smile.

"Yea that could work." He mused softly to himself, kicking off his shoes and setting them by the front door.

On the other side of the bedroom door, Finch sat on his bed, slumped over as far as his aching body would allow him, rubbing his leg and staring at the floor. His mind was in a fog, as it always was after a match. Why did he even bother going anymore, he wondered. He supposed it was mostly because he needed to keep up appearances. The owner of the Beast Wars not going to a match in his own town didn't make sense to people apparently. To be honest he didn't care much for appearances. What he did on his time was his decision and no one else's.

After calling Reese by the wrong name, he'd sooner just quit going all together than subject himself to that humiliation again. Luckily Fusco hadn't been present. He would have noticed immediately how off Harold had been and that would have created more problems, problems that Harold wasn't quite sure if he was ready to deal with, especially around Reese.

Harold's silent turmoil was interrupted by an unfamiliar sound. What was it, scratching? He said up, his brow furrowed as he searched for the source of the sound. With a sigh, he heaved himself off of the bed and limped towards the door, courageously forgoing the cane given the condition his leg was currently in. When he opened the door, his eyebrows rose of their own accord.

Sitting on the floor with his tongue lolling out of his mouth was a gorgeous black Belgian Malinois, what Harold could only assume was Reese in his domestic form. Like his beast form, silver kissed the areas around Reese's ears and his muzzle. As Harold had assumed earlier, his eyes were the same bright blue. They were focused intensely on him, so incredibly human and yet still so alien.

Harold realized that he had been simply staring at Reese when the dog barked and cocked his head, seeming to sit up straighter. A small smile placed itself on his face as he watched Reese's tail swish back and forth on the floor behind him.

"Trying to make me feel better, Reese?" He chuckled. The dog sniffed and shifted, licking his chops and staring up at Harold with his bright eyes, almost like he was saying 'is it working?'

"I can admit it's working a bit. But you're not coming in my room like that. I don't want dog hair on my bed.—"An indignant snort from Reese—"Stay."

To his amusement, Reese stayed put. His tail stopped wagging and he stared at Harold as the human grabbed his cane and walked past Reese, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Finch sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to him.

"I'll let you on the couch just this once. Come, Reese."

The dog leapt to his feet and padded over to the couch, proceeding to then jump onto the cushions next to Finch and lie down, long tongue once again lolling free.

When Pets shifted into their domestic forms, they lost a bit of their human traits as far as the way that their minds worked. The same went for the beast form. They became more like an animal. Emotions that they experienced were simpler, easier to understand. So if Reese looked happy because he was on the couch, despite being told beforehand that he wouldn't be allowed, he really was.

"I suppose you're looking for an explanation for my behavior at the arena." Finch sighed, looking at his couch companion. Reese simply blinked at him.

"You've once again put a language barrier between us. Intentionally I'm guessing."

Reese gave him a little growl (that almost sounded sarcastic) and put his head on his paws, gazing up at Harold. The human sat back against the couch, not quite sure what to say.

"I'm not really comfortable with telling you my exact reasons yet, if that's alright." He didn't expect Reese to respond so he continued. "I can tell you however that I hate being in that arena. I hate sitting in that box and watching those Pets tear at each other. I used to love it. Going to the matches was one of my favorite past-times not long ago, but just like everything else, it only takes one bad experience to ruin your opinion of something."

He may have jumped slightly when a head placed itself in his lap with a whine, but he relaxed and put a hand on Reese's back, the thick, crisp fur under his fingers calming him. He soon found himself petting the dog mindlessly, staring off into space as he thought.

"There was a time when I traveled out of the state to go to other matches, usually the ones that involved the champions, both North American and International. I own almost everything related to the Beast Wars except the Pets, and even then I sponsor a good number of them," he stopped and looked down at the dog. "But you knew that already, didn't you."

Reese didn't answer again, still just silently watching Harold's every move.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Reese. Most of the things that I keep hidden about myself are hidden for a good reason, but perhaps one day I'll share with you."

Harold smiled as Reese's tail started thudding on the couch and the dog seemed to smile at him, the corners of his mouth twitching. With a chuckle, Harold scratched Reese's back with his blunt nails. The dog made a low pleased sound and his eyes started to slide shut. Harold continued to smile as he scratched his new Pet's fur until he fell asleep, switching to simply petting him slowly after the fact.

The human and the Pet sat there on the couch, drawing peace and comfort from one another until the sun started to hang low and red in the sky. Aside from some snacks at the arena, neither Harold nor Reese had eaten in a while. It was almost too late for dinner but Harold figured they could make something small and relatively simple, so with a gentle massaging of the ears, he attempted to wake up the dog in his lap.

"Reese…" He said softly, chuckling when the dog started and looked around blearily before yawning. He seemed to realize where he was after a moment because he sat up with a yap, looking at Harold imploringly.

"You fell asleep. I figured since it was getting late, we could get some dinner if you like."

Reese jumped down from the couch and shook himself out from head to tail, his answer obvious. Harold started to get up when he stopped, surprised to see Reese begin to shift. The grotesque horror-movie sounds that most people expected were absent. The noise was no worse that someone popping the joints in their fingers.

As Finch watched his quick shift, he noticed that, unlike most Pets, who shifted and ended up on their hands and knees, Reese had perfected the art of shifting into the standing position. The things that made John Reese unique never stopped it seemed.

The taller man fixed his rumpled shirt collar and smiled down at Harold. He was given a smirk in return.

"Very sneaky of you Mr. Reese, using your domestic form to get me to open up like that."

Reese shrugged.

"You seemed like you'd be more comfortable in the company of someone who would only listen and not comment."

Harold almost reeled back in surprise as Reese smiled at him and wandered into the kitchen, saying something about cooking. The sudden wave of emotion that hit him was… well sudden. Never in his life had anyone been able to read him so easily. Normally he would chalk it up to Reese being a Pet, but all his previous Pets had a difficult time understanding what he was feeling, even Nathan, his most-trusted Pet to date. It literally blew his mind. John had managed to surprise him twice in the span of thirty seconds.

"How does teriyaki chicken and vegetable stir fry sound?" Reese called from the other room, the sound of pans being moved around drawing Harold back from his shocked state.

"You don't need to cook, Reese. I can do that." He grabbed his cane and hobbled into the kitchen area. Reese had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. There was just something about the rolling of sleeves that made almost anyone look more casual.

Reese turned to look at him, his eyes darting over Harold's form, making the exposed feelings return.

"With all due respect, Mr. Finch, the last thing you need to be doing is standing on that leg of yours. Please, have a seat?"

Although it was posed as a question, Harold knew it wasn't really up for debate, so he took a seat at the table, propping his cane against the chair next to him. For the next thirty minutes or so, Reese prepared their dinner. Soon enough, the smell of teriyaki chicken along with fried vegetables filled the space. Reese found the plates and silverware and dished out two servings, setting Harold's down in front of him.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Reese asked, already going to the cabinet and getting a glass down.

"Water is fine, thank you." Harold said quietly. Being taken care of was a bit new to him. He and Nathan had each taken care of themselves. There was never really a feeling of 'master' and 'Pet' between them, not even when they first met one another back when they were fresh out of college. They had just fallen into an easy rhythm with one another. Sure Nathan was clearly the Pet and acted as such, fighting in the matches and launching Harold to the top of the champion's bracket, and Harold was obviously the owner for reasons that were even more so, but that didn't really extend to their home life. At home they were Nathan and Harold, not Pet and owner. Harold looked up, watching the man in the kitchen.

But Reese.

There was a definite need to serve there, to take care of the person who owned him, and that made sense Harold supposed. What with his military background, it only seemed right for him to want to serve, but Harold could tell that wasn't all. There was something else, something deeper, some hidden story that was making Reese so adamant to take care of him. Harold could easily understand wanting to keep secrets, but trust had to go both ways, so until they were both ready to share, they would just have to deal with each other's darkness.

It was fascinating really how well they suited one another.

The water glass was set down in front him and Reese finally sat down, watching Harold with an intensity that made him want to look away. Realizing that Reese was waiting for him to try the food, he stabbed a piece of chicken along with a baby corn and put it in his mouth. The delicious flavor exploded and he could do little more than blink as he chewed.

"This is delicious. Where did you learn to cook, Reese?" Harold asked, already eating more. Satisfied with the positive reaction, Reese finally took a bite of his own food.

"I've picked up a few skills on my travels. I'm glad you like it."

They ate in silence, the only sound in the room being their silverware on their plates, only touching never actually scratching against the glass, lest they injure Reese's sensitive ears. Harold had another half of a serving and Reese ate the rest, which turned out to be two whole servings. Harold was worried that he'd make himself sick but the man easily ate it all without a complaint afterwards. Harold got up to put his dishes away but Reese took them from him, telling him to stay seated, that he'd take care of it. Harold almost protested but he had to admit, he was enjoying this, and his leg was still very stiff and sore. Standing at the sink and doing dishes didn't really sound appealing at the moment. So instead he sat quietly at the table as Reese instructed, simply watching him.

Harold was a man who observed other people by nature. It was something that he had done his whole life. People watching had been his all-time favorite activity at university, mostly because the only reason he was on campus was to assist the professors. He had finished his degree years before he had even decided to move on campus. He didn't actually attend any classes while he was there. University had been where he had met Nathan.

Nathan had been brought into a class as a demonstration, an example of how Pets worked. He had been so young and eager back then, so excited to show off his talents to the equally-eager college students who would probably become owners someday. He had tried especially hard to impress the stoic teacher's assistant, who had question after question for him. He had succeeded, and that's how Harold Finch and Nathan Ingram had become friends, and eventually signed a Pet-and-owner contract together.

"Something on your mind, Harold?" Reese's soft voice made Harold start. The seated man looked up to see his Pet staring down at him with a slight frown, concern clearly shining in his eyes. Harold straightened, shaking his head.

"Not particularly, no."

He paused, thinking. Even as he spoke, he couldn't believe what he was about to do.

"Do me a favor, open that cabinet there and grab the bottle on the bottom rack."

Reese did as he was asked and returned to the table holding a bottle of red wine. Very expensive red wine.

"You have excellent tastes, Finch." Reese commented, glancing at his owner. As relaxed as Harold was now, there was still something off about him, something that was making John feel a little on the uncomfortable side. The dinner that they had just eaten was hardly fancy enough for Harold to want to break out the wine glasses.

"Thank you. Why don't you open it up and we'll have a glass together."

Every single piece of Reese's mind was screaming at him to say no, because he knew where this was going, but instead he silently found the corkscrew and popped open the bottle, the strong smell of the wine assaulting his nose. As wonderful as it smelled, nothing good was going to come from this, he just knew it.

He retrieved some wine glasses from the cupboards and poured a half a glass for both of them. They tapped glasses and took a sip. Well. Reese took a sip. Harold downed his entire glass, leaving Reese to stare at him.

Danger, Reese's senses were screaming at him. Just say no more, John, tell him to stop.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Harold asked for another glass and Reese poured it. Soon enough, the bottle was empty and Harold was obviously drunk, his cheeks flushed and his eyes slipping closed. Reese had never felt so helpless in his life. What kind of pain was Harold in that he turned to alcohol instead of sharing with John? He almost got angry, but he quickly reminded himself that Harold probably didn't trust him yet. They'd only been together for a day or so, and it took longer than that to build solid trust.

Besides, for him to accuse Harold of using alcohol as an out would be hypocritical. He hadn't exactly been living a sober lifestyle when the PRDC had caught him.

He put away their glasses and the bottle, watching Harold lay his head down on the table before walking over and coaxing him out of the chair, helping him to the bedroom. Reese didn't want to undress Harold, seeing that as an invasion of privacy, so he simply pulled off the man's socks and shoes and covered him with a blanket, removing his glasses gently. Harold's eyes fluttered open and managed to somehow focus on him. Reese felt his heart clench. The agony he saw in those pale blue depths wasn't just physical. That was deep-rooted emotional pain, and at that moment, Reese wanted nothing more than to make it go away.

Reese had his own share of emotional and mental scars. He had been through more than any of the other Pets he knew. His life hadn't always been a complicated one. In fact, it had been disturbingly simple for a Pet of his nature, that nature being his obvious genetic uniqueness and rare physical qualities. He had joined the military because he had wanted to make a difference. What he got instead was nightmares and heartache. It had all gone downhill from there, and no amount of 'help' had made him feel better.

Slipping off his shoes, Reese shifted quickly and lay down on the rug beside the bed, putting his head on his paws with a sad whine, listening to Harold's heavy breathing.

Harold knew he had too much to drink. He knew he was going to regret it. God, had he said anything stupid? Did it even matter at this point? His head was swimming and he felt like he was floating. How had he gotten to his bedroom? Where was Reese? He couldn't believe that he had let himself get this far. He was just sober enough to feel ashamed.

"Reese?" He asked tentatively to the darkness. There was some shuffling and a furry head popped up at his bedside. With a little effort, he managed to pat the head gently before he let his hand flop onto the bed, chuckling when it bounced.

"Come on, Reese. Up." He said, patting the spot next to him. The dog seemed to hesitate but Harold beckoned to him again, so finally he jumped onto the massive bed, stepping carefully over Harold's body and settling down at the human's side with a sniff. Harold stroked a hand down the dog's back, eventually stopping to bury his fingers in the thick fur on Reese's neck.

"Good boy, Reese." He mumbled, feeling sleep over take him. The dog at his side whined again and shifted closer, keeping a vigilant watch on his sleeping master.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow I fucking suck. This update is so incredibly late and I do apologize for that. I struggled with this chapter. :/ The words didn't want to come.

****Tags/warnings: Rinch (Reese/Finch); monsters; transformations; creature violence/violence in general; werewolves/werecats/wereanimals in general; future sexual content/what could be considered bestiality (based on the nature of some of the characters, namely Reese); future mentions of what could be considered animal abuse/abandonment (again based on the nature of the characters); slavery-like situations; servant/master-like relationships****

**This chapter: no new warnings except more Ben!Finch :3**

Soundtrack: '_Good Feeling_' by Flo Rida; '_More than a Feeling_' by Hit the Lights (original song by Boston); '_For You_' by Keith Urban; '_Be My Escape_' by Relient K; '_Powerless_' by Linkin Park; '_Cry Me a River_' by Julie London; '_Skyfall_ by Adele; '_You're a Wolf_' by Sea Wolf

o-o-o-o-o

Pain.

That was the first thing that registered when Harold woke up. Pain was hitting him in all sorts of places. His head. His leg. His neck. His back. Everything hurt. He groaned, putting a hand over his eyes. Damn, those hurt too. He just wanted to roll over and die, but there were two problems with that. One, there was no way in hell that he would be able to roll over, not with his bad back, and two, he had somewhere important to be today. He couldn't exactly recall at the moment, but he was sure he'd remember eventually.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hot tongue swept over his hand, but his muscles unclenched when he recognized the furry face looking at him.

"Oh. Reese…" He sighed, massaging his temples. He had almost forgotten about his new Pet. The bed moved as the dog jumped down. Shifting sounds were heard and when Harold opened his eyes, Reese was staring at him from the foot of the bed. There was that hint of concern in his eyes again, and Harold's first reaction was to lash out because he didn't want pity, but he stopped himself.

"I'm sorry, Reese." He finally managed to say, the words feeling like ash in his mouth. It was a lie. He wasn't sorry. He had deliberately gotten drunk, purposely downed that entire bottle of wine just so he would forget about—

"There's no need, Mr. Finch," was the soft reply that stopped his train of thought. His confused expression prompted Reese to continue.

"I'm not here to criticize, dictate, or comment on how you live. I am here to protect you. You have nothing to apologize for."

He turned and left the room and Harold could hear him in the kitchen. A wave of guilt finally washed over Harold. What a brilliant first impression he had made on his guard dog. He almost wished that Reese had gotten angry and chastised him, just so he wouldn't feel like he had let his Pet down, but the truth was that he had let him down, one way or another.

Reese came back into the room with a cup of what looked like orange juice.

"Here, drink this. It'll help you feel better."

Harold let Reese help him sit up against the headboard and accepted the glass with a small smile.

"No coffee and aspirin?" He asked.

"Coffee would only further dehydrate you, and any sort of pain pill could worsen your symptoms, or even damage your liver and stomach and send you to the hospital."

Harold nodded as he took a sip.

"Very good. Most people don't know that." He murmured. Reese shrugged.

"You don't spend time in the military without picking up useful pieces of information."

Harold put the still-half-full glass on the bedside table and picked up his glasses, putting them on with a sigh.

"Given the events of last night, I regret to inform you that once again we have a previous engagement later on today. We'll be heading back to the arena for another match, and afterwards—"

"No."

Harold reeled back, the hard tone of Reese's voice a punch to his stomach. Now that he had his glasses on, he could see how Reese's eyes were glowing sharply, his mouth a thin line, the muscle in his jaw tight.

"I beg your pardon?" Harold replied, thrown off kilter by his Pet's refusal and still too hung over to process things correctly.

"Clearly something about the arena makes you upset, and consequently causes you to put your personal health in danger."

Harold stared.

"As your guard dog, it's my job to keep you safe, and what happened last night was not safe. At all."

Harold could not believe what he was hearing. Was Reese actually back talking him?

The human on the bed was getting angry. It was apparent in his arched eyebrows and his eyes. Any normal Pet would have backed down and apologized for being out of line, but Reese refused to budge.

"You took ownership of me for the sole reason of protecting you, so unless I misunderstood, this is me protecting you, Mr. Finch."

"You would do well, Mr. Reese," Harold said in a low voice, "to remember your place. You are not my parent, not my lover, not my partner. You are my Pet, and you have no right to tell me what to—"

He stopped short and was forced to lean back when Reese bent down to his level, face inches from his own.

"You're right, I am your Pet." Reese's voice had that powerful undertone again, the same one that Harold had first heard at the PRDC. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was suddenly at a loss for words as Reese stared him down, his glowing blue eyes drilling holes into Harold's eye sockets.

"Actually, I'm more than some common house Pet, I am a military-trained Guard Dog. _Your _Guard Dog. Those are your words, not mine. Everything I am belongs to you now. My entire life revolves around you. Telling me that it isn't my business is hard for me to understand."

Harold finally managed to force his voice to work, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"I didn't say that it wasn't your business. I said you had no right." His voice shook slightly, and he prayed that Reese didn't notice, but the corner of Reese's mouth turned up, meaning that he had. An amused snort came from Reese, and when Harold felt the other man's breath caress his face, he quickly became aware of just how close they were to one another.

"That's splitting hairs, Harold." Reese leaned back and Harold tried not to sigh in relief. "Regardless, if I don't do my job, what good am I? So let me do my job."

When Reese finally looked away from him, Harold relaxed visibly, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

"I'll make you a deal, Reese, since you're so adamant about not going to the arena."

The Pet looked at him as he stood up, limping over to the closet to pick out his clothes for the day, feeling equal parts disgusted and embarrassed that he had slept in his clothes from the day before. He did however appreciate Reese respecting him enough to not undress him like an infant.

"We will still keep our appointment, even if we don't attend the match beforehand, and I will allow you to decide when we leave. Does that seem fair?"

Reese studied him for a moment before shrugging, that ever-present sense of nonchalance rolling off of him in waves.

"Fair enough. First, we get you some good food and more juice. Wouldn't seem right if you pulled a Tony Stark and attended an important meeting with a hang over from Hell, now would it."

Harold chuckled.

"Indeed not."

After Harold managed to keep down some plain toast and some more juice, he and Reese headed out to buy the Pet his own clothes. First they stopped at Finch's tailor, where they got Reese a few of his own suits. As it turned out, he liked the style and cut of Nathan's old suit, so they ordered some more like it. Of course, Reese refused to wear a tie so they didn't bother looking at any. They then headed out to more casual stores so that Reese wouldn't have to spend all his time in a suit, as much as he enjoyed them.

He not only got some more slacks but also a few pairs of jeans, as well as some casual button downs and (to Harold's amusement) some logo t-shirts, one of which was actually an Iron Man shirt.

"I loved the comics as a kid." Reese had commented.

By the time they finished, it was time to head to the match. Reese agreed to let Harold sit in the box, granted that he didn't actually watch. Harold decided that was fair, although he would probably still try and get Reese to let him watch.

They left the clothes they had purchased in the car, save for the suit Reese was wearing, and headed inside. Security let them through with a simple nod. Reese ended up having to frighten off some more nosy reporters on their way to the box, which brought a hidden smile to Harold's face. When Nathan used to have to fight off reporters, he had to use his voice. All Reese had to do was turn towards them, and if his size alone didn't scare them, then the look on his face did.

They got settled into the box and soon enough the announcer came over the speakers, and then the match started. Harold knew Reese was just trying to keep him from getting upset, but the human had been to more matches than he could count, so he could tell what was happening just from the sounds that were filtering up from the ring below. He didn't actually need to see. Reese was standing between him and the open balcony of the box, switching between looking at him and watching the match.

"Finch I have a question for you. Do you mind?" Reese asked as he turned away from the ring for what seemed like the millionth time. Harold shook his head and Reese sat down in the chair adjacent from him, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked a little perplexed as he spoke.

"The Pets that fight in the matches… why do they… They all look so normal in their beast form."

"I'm not sure I'm understanding your question, Mr. Reese."

Reese stood again and wandered over to the balcony, staring down at the on-going match. Some kind of bird was battling with a feline it seemed. Harold almost wished he could watch. Birds were always a pleasure to see in the matches. In fact, if he had dared to sneak a peek, he could probably spot it flying around above the arena.

"You've seen my beast form. You know what I look like. Now compare that to how Carter looks."

Harold was starting to see where this was going but he let Reese talk.

"She looks like an ordinary black panther; a little bigger than normal but a panther nonetheless." Reese answered for him. "Now what do I look like to you?"

Realizing that he wanted an answer, Harold adjusted his glasses on his nose.

"Well the first thing that comes to mind is a werewolf." He said albeit somewhat resigned, because he knew what Reese was getting at.

"Exactly. I don't look like a normal canine. I look like a monster from a horror movie. You wouldn't happen to have any idea as to why that is, would you?"

Harold thought for a while. Honestly he couldn't think of anything that stood out to him save for one thing, but it had never been scientifically proven. He debated mentioning it to Reese for a moment before deciding that anything was better than an 'I don't know'.

"There's been some recent speculation that certain people have a mutated beast gene. It makes them bigger and stronger than normal Pets, but it also distorts their appearance to a degree, depending on how prominent the gene is of course. That would be my best guess."

The shadow covering Reese's brow only deepened as he stared out at the other Pets, no doubt analyzing them. Harold really didn't know if Reese wanted him to say anything else on the subject, if it would be appreciated, so he remained silent and listened to the match going on below them.

"Does anyone know what causes this mutation?"

Reese's voice was so quiet that Harold almost didn't hear him. He was almost sorry he did however. The underlying frustration wasn't being hidden very well.

"Not to my knowledge. Then again, I haven't been in the scientific field for some years now."

That got the Pet's attention. He turned slowly with a small smile.

"You were a scientist?"

"Of sorts." Harold replied slyly. He supposed stealing the government's documents on genetics and other related issues didn't count as science, but Reese didn't need to know that. Not just yet anyway.

"That doesn't sound sketchy at all." Reese snorted.

"Then you have no reason to be suspicious." Harold replied without missing a beat, earning himself another small smile. The blow of the horn signaled the end of the fight as well as Harold's permission to come out on the balcony. He saw no point in waiting around for the results of a match he didn't even watch, so he simply pulled his coat back on and left the box. Reese trailed closely behind him like a shadow.

"Our appointment is on another floor of the arena. We're meeting someone." Harold said as more of a way to fill the silence. Reese said nothing, only followed the human to the elevator. They rode from the second floor to the fourth floor, where the sounds of the crowds and the chaos of the matches were almost non-existent. The walls were all a dark rich red, the floors covered with intricate looking carpet of the same rich shades.

Reese would have been lying if he said the whole atmosphere made his hair stand on end. There was something foreboding about all the blood red with touches of black and brown. He tried not to let it show as Harold led them down a long hallway, which dead ended at a wood door (again of a dark color) that said "Conference Room" in gold lettering. Harold didn't knock. He simply opened the door and entered, not saying that Reese should follow. He did, however glance behind him to make sure Reese was still there, and the Pet took that as meaning he needed to come inside as well.

He immediately wished he hadn't followed. Despite his best efforts, Reese recoiled before he could even process the smell that flooded his ultrasensitive nose. It was foul, that was the first thing he noticed. It made his stomach roll and pitch and for a second, he thought he might gag. How could Harold not smell that?

"Right on schedule."

A voice spoke and Reese managed to push the nauseating smell from his mind just long enough to notice the other person in the room. A man with glasses and thinning hair stepped out of the shadows smiling. John eyed him warily while Harold returned his smile.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Finch." The man spoke, extending his hand. Harold shook it and, with a glance at Reese, released it quickly, misreading his Pet's expression pained expression for one of anger.

"Elias, this is my new Guard Dog, Reese. Reese, this is my… business associate, Carl Elias."

Reese didn't move to shake Carl Elias's hand. Even though he wasn't the source of the stench that was currently filling his nasal cavities, the man still made Reese's hackles rise in suspicion. Elias took note of Reese's barely contained aggression and simply nodded at him. Remembering his manners at the last second, Reese dipped his chin in response.

"You don't mean John Reese do you? The military—"

"We prefer not to discuss it." Finch said, cutting Elias off with his hard tone. Elias simply raised his hands and said no more, taking a seat in one of the massive chairs that surrounded the central table. He motioned for Harold to join him. Reese chose to remain standing. He was still a little dizzy but he was slowly getting accustomed to the smell. Not that he should be, but he was nonetheless. Either that or the smell was fading.

"So, have you given our arrangement any more thought?" Elias said, looking at his fingers. Harold placed his cane on the table and sat back further in his chair.

"I have."

"And?"

"I'm not quite sure if I can agree to those terms, not all at once. There are other variables to consider in a situation this imperative, especially one that has so much at risk for both you and me."

Elias's brow was furrowed as he nodded.

"I understand."

"I am, however, willing to discuss it further at a later date. Would that be permissible?"

Reese found himself smiling in spite of the atmosphere. He rather liked Harold's ultra-formal manner of speaking.

"Surely you don't have somewhere else to be right now." Elias said, leaning closer with a smile. Reese took a step closer to Finch, taking secret pride in the fact that Elias's eyes flickered to him before he backed off.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Elias looked away from Finch, telling the person to come inside.

Reese had to grab onto the back of Finch's chair as the person entered, choking back bile. The smell was back, only ten times worse. Whoever this person was, they were obviously the source. He stared, watching a brunette woman saunter past him and stopping to stand next to Elias.

"Mr. Finch, you've met my Pet, Samantha."

"Yes I have. You go by something else in the matches." Harold said.

The woman smiled and Reese felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He did not like how she was looking at Finch. Her eyes were sharp, focused on his face, not wandering at all. She had the look of a predator.

"Root. They call me Root." She said, her voice dripping with honey.

At that very moment, Reese realized what it was that he smelled. Poison. Poison and death. She smelled like a rotting corpse drenched in cyanide. He knew that smell very well.

He put a hand on Finch's shoulder, getting his attention.

"We need to go." He said urgently, keeping his eyes on Root. She finally tore her gaze away from Finch long enough for Reese to see the insanity in her eyes, her smile plastered on her face like oil paint on a canvas.

Harold frowned at him.

"Don't be rude, Reese. We—"

He tightened his grip, knowing he was overstepping his boundaries just a little bit.

"You said I could choose when we left. I'm saying we leave now." He said, hating how his voice trembled with barely contained panic, and hating the fact that Finch wasn't able to smell Root even more. Harold looked like he wanted to argue, but he instead excused himself, telling Elias that he would be in contact soon. He grabbed his cane and followed Reese out the door, letting the agitated Pet lead him to the elevators by the elbow.

"You had better have a very good explanation for me when we get home, John." Harold's voice was pulled tight in irritation. Reese tried not to flinch at the use of his first name.

He only partially succeeded.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Don't even ask me where I've been. I have no answer for you that isn't just an excuse. What I CAN tell you is that 2x12 'Dead Reckoning' kicked my ass into gear, so you can thank that for this update. :)

****Tags/warnings: Rinch (Reese/Finch); monsters; transformations; creature violence/violence in general; werewolves/werecats/wereanimals in general; future sexual content/what could be considered bestiality (based on the nature of some of the characters, namely Reese); future mentions of what could be considered animal abuse/abandonment (again based on the nature of the characters); slavery-like situations; servant/master-like relationships****

**New warnings: More Harold/Nathan past-ship stuff**

Soundtrack: '_Enter Sandman_' by Metallica; '_Jolene_' by Miley Cyrus; '_Problem (The Monster Remix)_' by Becky G feat. will. ; '_Turn the Page_' by Metallica; '_Ain't No Love in the Heart of the City_' by Bobby Blue Bland; '_Yours to Hold_' by Skillet

o-o-o-o-o

They didn't speak on the way home. Reese kept a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt his teeth. He knew if he relaxed even a bit, he'd shake, and Finch didn't need to see that kind of weakness from him. Finch didn't look as angry as Reese had anticipated, but then again the man had an excellent poker face…

Silently, he turned off the car and walked around to the other side, opening the door for Finch and helping him slide out. He got a curt 'thank you' but Finch still didn't look at him. If Reese were in his domestic form, his tail would be between his legs as he followed Finch to the lift.

Everything exploded the second the house door shut.

"You are to explain your behavior immediately." Finch seethed, his eyes fierce as he stared up at Reese. The taller male swallowed before speaking.

"That Pet Samantha… Root. She's dangerous."

"Most Pets that fight at her level are, Reese." Finch replied, his lips thin. "Since you've never fought, I don't expect you to know that."

The snappy comment stung but Reese just raised his chin.

"I don't know much about fighting in the Wars, but I do know Pets and what they smell like, and she smelled like death. No Pet I know of smells like that."

The last part was a lie, but he wasn't sure if he wanted Harold to know just what Root was yet. Harold's stare was still as icy as ever but he did finally blink, making Reese's spine uncoil a fraction.

"I noticed something was bothering you, but I never would have guessed it was how she smelled." Harold said, half speaking to Reese and half speaking to himself. Reese trailed after the human as he limped into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

"This may seem like an unnecessary question but I must ask, should I be concerned?"

"If you plan on continuing to meet with Elias, yes. You should be concerned." Reese replied simply. Harold swiveled to face the Pet, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"And why's that?"

"Because I saw the way she was looking at you. She was looking at you like a carnivore looks at its food. She is literally a predator. Is that something you want to have constantly watching you?"

Harold took a sip of his water, swallowing calmly.

"No I suppose not. That would make it hard to focus." Finch said with a smirk.

"This is serious, Finch." Reese insisted, his voice tight with worry. Finch smirked for a moment longer before putting his glass down on the counter, his expression becoming blank once more. Reese fought the urge to fidget under Harold's piercing gaze as the man stared at him, his eyes moving to different parts of John's face, analyzing.

"What do you suggest I do in this situation? The business I'm conducting with Elias is of the utmost importance at this time. I cannot afford to cease meeting with or speaking to him."

Reese raked a hand through his hair, more than sure that he messed it up.

"Can I offer an alternative solution?" Finch spoke, approaching the frustrated Pet. Reese instinctively tensed at the proximity but he nodded nonetheless.

"I want to at least finish this piece of business and, if possible, continue to work with Elias, but I don't want to cause you undue stress and anguish, so."

The human walked past him and sat down on the couch, hissing and massaging his leg. Reese followed and stood in front of him.

"Here's my suggestion to you. You will continue to come with me to my meetings with Elias, and if you feel I'm in immediate danger, you are welcome to take any course of action you want to protect me. My safety is your responsibility, Reese. On that note, I hereby give you permission to shift fully if the need arises."

Reese felt his heart rate spike. Unauthorized shifting into one's Beast form outside the Wars arena was punishable by death in some countries, and here was Harold Finch, the owner of the majority of the Beast Wars, giving him full permission to shift without having to ask.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that…

"How does that sound?" Harold spoke again, feeling a little anxious since Reese hadn't spoken in a while. The Pet's jaw was tight but his expression was relaxed.

"That seems fair enough. I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

"I thought you were on your best behavior already."

Reese couldn't stop himself from automatically dropping his gaze to the floor. Sarcastic comment or not, Finch was right. Reese was not making a good impression on his new owner. This situation needed to be remedied quickly.

"Unfortunately, my polite disposition goes away when my owner is in danger, and today you were in the worst kind of danger."

"And what kind of danger is that?"

"The kind where you are completely unaware." Reese said smoothly. That got Finch's attention, his attention being that his eyebrow crawled upwards slowly until it was arched perfectly.

"Point taken." Harold drawled, nodding slowly.

Reese let his shoulders drop from their tensed position. If Harold noticed, he didn't say anything. He simply heaved himself to his feet and limped back into the kitchen. Reese trailed after him, watching with mild interest as he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"This is Harold Finch. I wish to speak to Mr. Elias please… thank you… Yes hello, Carl?" Harold said, leaning against the counter.

"I must apologize for what happened earlier… if you say so… is it possible for us to reschedule? Perhaps for next week?... Yes that should work… yes… we'll discuss that later… no, not now… no, and that's final." Harold's sharp tone and tense posture made Reese step closer, but the human soon leaned back against the counter so Reese relaxed as well.

"See you next week, Carl… yes… good bye."

Harold hung up the phone and turned to Reese who, while he was on the phone, had managed to shift without his noticing. He looked down at the dog, regarding him with amusement.

"Is this how you deal with guilt? Trying to make me forgive you by giving me puppy dog eyes?" Harold chuckled, watching the dog bow his head and then nudge his good leg gently.

"Come on; let's go for a walk. My leg is stiff and that means I need to stretch it a bit. We'll have to forgo a leash since you refuse to wear a collar. I trust you won't make me chase after you?"

Reese sniffed and trotted to the door, sitting down in front of it while Harold grabbed his jacket and turned off the lights. They headed outside and down the street towards town, the door closing quietly behind them.

In the dark apartment, a shape came in through a window in the living room. The figure moved about silently, picking up things occasionally before putting them down again, careful to put them back exactly where they had been previously. They paused in front of the large computer but thought twice, leaving it alone. Mr. Finch would surely know if it was messed with in any way. After stalking about the apartment for several more moments and not finding what they were looking for, the figure made their way back out of the apartment through the front door, closing the door and walking down the corridor, disappearing without a trace.

o-o-o-o-o

People stared as Mr. Harold Finch himself walked down the street, a rare sight indeed. They stared even more when they noticed the dog trotting next to him. The large black dog had haunting blue eyes that swept their surroundings frequently. He was obviously a Pet and not an animal. The dog was definitely larger than what was normal for Pets in the Seattle area. His shoulder was level with Mr. Finch's hip. They kept a respectable distance from the pair as a precaution.

Harold was well aware of all the passersby's glances and stares. He wasn't often seen out in public, even less so since the accident. He knew some people hadn't seen him since before that happened, so they were staring at his cane and his limping gait, but he also knew that those who were familiar with him weren't expecting the Belgian Malinois at his side. They were more accustomed to a grey-muzzled yellow lab with a pace that was definitely more relaxed than Reese's sharp strides.

His throat constricted at the thought of Nathan, causing him to swallow harshly. Reese mistook the action for discomfort and whined softly, bumping his hand with his head. Finch made his way to a bench and sat down, patting Reese on the back when he stood in front of him and once again checked the area around them.

"I'm alright, Reese." Harold said with a sigh, leaning his cane against the bench and massaging his leg. The stiffness was gone now, leaving only a slight soreness.

"Shall we head back home for some lunch?"

The way Reese's tail started wagging at the mention of 'home' didn't escape Harold. The human wondered for a moment just how long Reese had been on the streets before he got picked up. He scratched behind the dog's ears, smiling at how Reese closed his eyes and made a happy sound. He liked this simple side of Reese. He liked how he was more open, easier to understand. He realized that Reese must have a hard time dealing with how Harold acted, all secrets and no answers. He made a note to remedy that.

"Let's go, Reese." He said as he stood with some help from his cane, ignoring the curious looks that were still being thrown his way. Reese finished scratching the itch on his neck and shook out his coat, following Harold back to the complex.

As soon as Harold opened the door, the hair on Reese's neck stood up and he growled low, baring his teeth. Harold froze, watching the Pet as he stalked inside.

"What is it, Reese?"

He jumped when Reese answered him and the lights snapped on.

"Someone's been in here while we were gone. I can smell them." Reese said, still walking around slowly. Harold closed the door and locked it, feeling a little panicked. He hadn't expected anyone to come after him so quickly. He slowly removed his jacket and hung it, stepping lightly.

"Are they still here?" He asked quietly. Reese returned from searching the bedroom.

"The scent is fading so I'd say no. They didn't stay long and they only searched the main portion of the house. No trace of them in the bedroom. Nothing is missing as far as I can tell."

Harold shot a quick glance at his computer, relieved to see that it was still powered off. Thank God the intruder hadn't touched it. Reese finally noticed his owner's state and approached him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Finch. You can relax."

"I find that difficult to do knowing my living space has been violated." He said waspishly, walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch to remove his shoes. Reese once again followed obediently, standing in front of Harold silently.

"For God's sake, sit down. Or at least take off your jacket. You're making me nervous." Harold snapped, kicking off his shoes and slumping back against the couch. Reese hesitated for a moment before doing as he was told, shrugging off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He sat down at the other end of the couch and, after a moment, removed his shoes.

"I'm guessing that you've never had a break in before." Reese said. Harold shook his head, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his tie compulsively.

"I had a hunch that people would try and get to me after the accident, but I didn't think it would be so soon. I'm very fortunate to have found you yesterday."

Reese cocked his head.

"A man of your status, I would have thought that you'd already have a guard dog, even if it was just an animal."

Harold almost made a comment before remembering that Reese had been in the military. He couldn't be expected to know anything about the Wars. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He supposed that it was a good idea for Reese to know about his predecessor.

"I had a Pet before. His name was Nathan."

He saw out of the corner of his eye how Reese seemed to sit a little straighter, no doubt recognizing the name from Harold's slip up at the arena the previous afternoon.

"Nathan Ingram actually. We met at university. The accident that crippled me 7 months ago killed him, and before you apologize for my loss, think twice." He said, making sure he had eye contact with the Pet.

"Nathan was happy to die for me, although we had never planned on anything that extreme ever happening."

Reese nodded his understanding so Harold continued.

"Nathan never competed in the Wars. He was never really cut out for fighting. He was just a house Pet, and we were both fine with that. I don't think I would have been comfortable with him battling in the Wars."

"You were extremely close." Reese commented, his soft voice an unexpected comfort to Harold.

"Yes… we were. He wasn't just my Pet. In fact if I had to think about it, he hardly counted as my Pet. I didn't treat him like one. He was my best friend and companion."

He paused, feeling the lump rise in his throat again.

"He was my family after my parents died. Now that he's gone, I have no one."

That last part slipped out and before Harold could stop it, he felt some tears trail down his cheeks. Embarrassment rose up in him like flames on tinder and he quickly wiped them away, the embarrassment starting to turn to anger. It was quickly quelled when Reese shifted closer and placed a large hand on his arm.

"I know I'm new in your life, and we don't know each other very well, but I want you to know that you have me, and I'll do my best."

The absolute honesty in Reese's voice threw Harold for a loop. When he shifted to look at his Pet, he was met with a gentle smile. There was a lump in his throat for an entirely different reason now.

"… Thank you, Reese." He said with effort, finding it hard to speak in the face of such a bold display of loyalty. Reese nodded before standing, pushing his fallen sleeves back up his biceps.

"Now. What do you want for lunch? I'm cooking."

o-o-o-o-o

"I don't think he's there."

"He has to be. Where else could he be?"

"Are you sure that's who owns him now?"

"My information was guaranteed to be one hundred percent accurate. Reese is Harold Finch's new Pet."

"Alright then. What's the next step?"

"We pay them a visit at the next match. Harold is always at the matches. They won't see us coming."

"What if Reese recognizes one of us?"

"Please. He can't take both of us on, not without shifting into his Beast form, and everyone knows it's illegal to do that unless you're battling. He's ours."


End file.
